


Splinters

by Lutefiskfisk



Category: Orange is the New Black
Genre: Anxiety, Body Dysphoria, Car Accidents, Career Ending Injuries, Childhood, Childhood Trauma, Delusions, F/F, Family, Family Drama, Family Issues, Fantasizing, Fat Shaming, Financial Issues, Flashbacks, Hospitals, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Implied/Referenced Underage Sex, Medical Trauma, Mental Health Issues, Mental Instability, Nichorello, Oral Sex, Permanent Injury, Post-Canon, Pre-Canon, Psychological Trauma, Racism, Racist Language, References to Depression, Rejection, Self-Esteem Issues, Serious Injuries, Shoplifting, Sibling Rivalry, Trauma
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-28
Updated: 2019-01-28
Packaged: 2019-10-18 10:37:37
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,314
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17579276
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lutefiskfisk/pseuds/Lutefiskfisk
Summary: Some glimpses into Lorna's past.(This really focuses mainly on Lorna, but Nicky appears as well.)





	Splinters

**Author's Note:**

> Sooo… By this, I'm getting some headcanons out of my system.  
> I’m very tempted to make a detailed multi-chapter thing about Lorna's past, but the mere thought of it feels intimidating af, so it's a very real possibility that this will never happen, and almost definitely not before we have s7. But I wanted to do something _now_. So, should I ever write that story, consider this one the tl;dr version of it. And if I don't, well, then you have this one at least. 
> 
> A shoutout goes out to junkienicky for your input on this!
> 
> Feedback is appreciated!

 

_People like to say that Lorna sees the world in black and white. And, indeed, it's hard to dispute that the small brunette has a tendency for seeing people as either good or bad. For either worshipping the ground they walk on or loathing them with the heat of a thousand suns. Likewise, she feels like she's either adored or despised and deemed worthless. And life is either beautiful and perfect or a hopeless clusterfuck headed straight for disaster._

_But maybe this isn't surprising considering that this is what her life has been like from day one._

 

* * *

 

It was a dark thundery evening when Joe Morello stood in the deserted corridor of the maternity ward, staring through the pane into the nursery. Dozens of babies were lying there in rows of little cribs, and he dearly wished that his was among them.

However, his girl, his precious little Lorna, born two months prematurely, had been whisked to the NICU, where she was now all alone, locked into an incubator and with countless tubes and wires attached to her tiny fragile body. When he'd been allowed to see her, what felt like an eternity ago, the sight had broken his heart and he'd barely been able to take in all those useless things that the doctor had been saying.

He was supposed not to worry. She'd most likely be able to lead a perfectly normal life. She was in the best hands and he could trust them. Blah, blah, blah. It was nothing but empty fucking words, because all it meant was that there _was_ a chance that her life wouldn't be normal, and what then?

"Mr. Morello?" came a voice from his left. As though on autopilot, his head turned and he saw the originator of the voice, a young nurse with a blond ponytail who was looking at him sympathetically.

"Come with me, please," the nurse said.

Joe shook his head but, nonetheless, he numbly followed the nurse back to the room where his family was waiting for him.

What first caught his eye was the form of his sleeping wife, Stansie. The poor darling hadn't taken well to the anesthesia and had been slipping in and out of consciousness all day. He'd barely been able to process it, when he heard the patter of little feet and an anxious voice from near his waist.

"Dada, how is little Lornie?" four-year-old Franny asked.

"Not now, Francine," Joe barked, feeling that he needed to get away, or else he'd drown in the new wave of anxiety that her question had set off.

"Oh, _Giuseppe_ ," came the voice of his mother-in-law who was sitting at the table in the corner of the room, holding two-year-old Mikey in her lap who was scribbling away with his crayons and an enviable air of nescience.

Joe ignored her. He knelt on the floor next to his wife and sent a silent prayer to the Holy Spirit that his baby, his Lorna, his poor little princess be okay, vowing to himself that he'd do his everything to give her the best life that she could possibly have.

It was probably attributable to the circumstances of her birth that Lorna remained the apple of her parents' eye. Stansie and, in particular, Joe were grateful that their little girl proceeded to grow up healthy and meet all her milestones, and they were determined to do everything in their power to make sure that things stayed that way. On some level, they were aware that they were probably smothering their child, but it felt justified to them that they never let Lorna out of sight and fussed over her whenever she hurt herself or got dirty. She also was a neurotic child that often cried about things that wouldn't have fazed Franny and Mikey in the slightest, and that reassured them more.

In a strange, confusing contrast to this, as Lorna realized when she got older, other kids (and this included her siblings) took to her very differently. They called her weird, prissy, whiny and a scaredy-cat and often excluded her from their games for reasons that she didn't understand. It usually resulted in angry outbursts, and no matter how often the adults told her to get a grip and not make such a scene, she just wasn't able to control it. And it wasn't even that she was really interested in taking part in the activities - it was the rejection and the feeling of not being good enough that hurt.

She actually didn't mind all that much to be left on the sidelines. Being around other kids tended to overwhelm her. They were often too rambunctious, too unpredictable, too rude - not as delicate and good and well-behaved as she was - and she very much preferred the nice, orderly world that she was painstakingly creating in her mind. It was a place in which she couldn't be hurt and where she was in control and where she could design everything to her liking.

But on a rainy afternoon not unlike the day of her birth eleven years before, Lorna's life abruptly changed forever.

She was lying on the couch in the living room, reading one of her young adult novels and listening to the steady pounding of the rain against the roof. It filled her with a feeling of contentment to know that she was here, safe and dry and warm, as the building around her shielded her from the ruthless raging of the elements outside. She didn't waste a second thought on the ringing at the front door, and it suited her just fine that her sister went to answer it. Moments later, a very pale Franny entered the room and told her to come with her.

Half annoyed (as she'd just reached a particularly suspenseful passage in her book), half curious (what in the world had happened that made Franny look like that?), Lorna got to her feet and followed her elder sister.

Two cops were standing on the doorstep, informing her that on their way back from Mikey's baseball practice, her parents and brother had been involved in a car crash.

(Many years later, Lorna found it remarkable that the most life-changing events she'd lived through had both been initiated by visits from the police.)

The following months felt like a blur. Looking back, Lorna could only remember vague impressions. Hospital visits. The beeping of machines. The smell of disinfectant. Doctors and therapists and other adults that wore uniforms and suits and professional demeanors saying things that she didn't understand. Fear. Grief. Anger. Guilt. And then came the day when her parents came back home.

Her mother had been hit the hardest. She'd sustained a severe brain injury that had wreaked havoc on her motor functions and cognitive skills. While under the constant care of the hospital, she'd been doing well considering the circumstances, her state quickly changed for the worse after her discharge as the Morellos weren't able to afford the amount of nursing that she would've needed. Soon, she became bedridden and often delirious, and it was up to Lorna and Franny to take care of her. Lorna was anxious to not let it show, but it quite scared her to see the once proud and elegant woman like that, haggard, disheveled, almost completely dependent and with a vacant expression.

And still, in a way, she found the change in her father even more disturbing. The accident had paralyzed him from the waist down, and while he'd had high hopes that with time and therapy, he'd make a full recovery (as it happened every so often), his ability to move hadn't changed one bit. He lost his job in construction and spent all his waking hours glued in front of the TV. Formerly a cordial and humorous man, he became increasingly withdrawn and irritable, snapping at as little as a too loud breath.

But it didn't stop Lorna from seeking him out. She was sure that her old father, the man who adored her and doted on her, was still in there somewhere and that he'd get out eventually if she just believed in it hard enough.

"My God, can't you jus' leave me in peace for _one_ minute?" he yelled one day when she approached him while he was watching some depressing sort of documentary about immigration, the table next to him cluttered with beer cans, empty packs of chips and peanuts, and an overflowing ash tray. "Piss off, I wanna watch my show!"

Lorna remained standing there, trembling, but Joe didn't acknowledge her presence as he continued to let his aggression out on the TV. "Fuckin' beaners!" he vented, slamming his fist onto the armrest of his wheelchair. "Comin' 'ere and takin' our jobs while good, honest citizens gotta grovel for handouts! Fuckin' country's goin' to the dogs!"

She couldn't help but wonder if her father hated her now. He'd never, _ever_ , raised his voice in her presence before. So, she figured, she must've done something terrible, something unforgivable, to bring out this side of him. Though she couldn't remember what it was. But maybe it was her very being. He must've found something about her that made her profoundly and inherently unlovable. How else could he go so suddenly from being so ( _seemingly_ , she thought now) nice and caring to saying such awful things and wishing that she wasn't there? And she wondered if, maybe, it was because she could've prevented all of this somehow if, somewhere in the past, she'd done something differently or if she'd just been a better daughter overall.

Somewhere deep, deep in the back of her mind, a tiny rational voice told her that none of this was her fault. She had nothing to do with her parents' ailments, her brother's survivor guilt, their monetary struggles and all the frustration that came along with that. However, these thoughts were almost _more_ painful even, and Lorna did all that she could to block them out before they could fully take shape. The problems that grown-ups had to face were frightening and filled her with an urge to be sick and to run away. But with nowhere to run to, she retreated more and more into her head. Still, she wished every night that when she woke up, all of it would turn out to be just a horrible dream and she'd finally have her family back.

 

* * *

 

_These days, she counts herself lucky for being surrounded by people who are good to her, and she's eager to give back to them. The event she's preparing for right now isn't a big one by any means - a dinner among friends in belated celebration of Piper's birthday - but still, she feels that she'd be letting them down if she wasn't looking her best._

_Her practiced hand applies a layer of ruby to her lips and as her lips rub against each other to even out the color, she leans closer to the vanity mirror that covers part of the bedroom wall, checking for any sort of imperfection in her make-up that requires correction. As she does, her gaze lingers on the faint lines on her forehead and around her eyes, and she scrunches up her nose with distaste. She isn't_ that _old - she can't possibly have wrinkles already!_

 _Wanting to - literally and figuratively - distance herself from this uncalled-for sight, she steps away from the mirror while she's adjusting her painstakingly curled hair (this time, using actual rollers instead of the toilet paper makeshift that she used in Litchfield, thank God). This, however, only directs her attention to her stomach and thighs. But, maybe, if she stands upright like_ this _, and keeps her blouse adjusted like_ that _, no-one will notice. But there's no way that she can possibly keep this up all night. She sighs wearily._

 

* * *

 

Back in an easier time, eight-year-old Lorna skipped into the kitchen, her head in the clouds and a song that she'd learned in school today on her lips. Until now, she'd been in her room, playing house with her dolls, a pastime that she could lose herself in for hours on end, but now the craving for a snack had coaxed her out.

"Jesus, why can't you just be normal?"

Lorna flinched and looked in the direction of that cranky voice. It belonged to Franny who was sitting at the counter over what appeared to be one of their mother's magazines and looking supremely annoyed.

Lorna instantly felt defensive, wondering what she'd done this time. People often told her that she should act normal and she didn't understand what that meant and why they wanted her to be like that, _wanted her to be different from what she was_ , apparently. And it never failed to sting.

"Franny, that's mean!" she exclaimed.

"No, it's the truth," Franny shot back. "Cut out the damn singing. It's annoying."

Lorna bit back the tears that were threatening to escape from her eyes. "Daddy says my singing is nice."

Franny rolled her eyes. Of course he'd said that. He'd probably say that pink giraffes with wings grew on trees if that's what Lorna believed, just to put his precious little princess into good humor.

She sullenly watched as Lorna dug some ingredients out of the fridge and started to make herself a sandwich.

"Hey, Your Majesty!"

Lorna's dejection made way for a feeling of triumph. "'Majesty' is the queen," she explained, enjoying the feeling of being able to correct her elder sister on such a simple thing. "but I'm _the princess_ ," she added airily, curtseying and spreading her arms as she spoke.

"Whatever. You looking forward to wearing your dress?"

Lorna's face lit up. She'd selected her communion dress last weekend and it made her so excited, she could hardly stop talking about it.

"Oh, yes! Very, very, _very_ much!" she said, frantically nodding her head.

"Then you shouldn't eat that, if you still wanna fit in it," Franny smirked as she nodded towards Lorna's sandwich.

Lorna frowned. "Why not?"

"'cause white foods make you fat and the bread on your sandwich is one of 'em," Franny stated. "It says it right here." She shoved her magazine towards Lorna and pointed at the article in question. "Read - if you can."

As Lorna stared at the article, her mind conjured up an image of herself as a cartoon character, wearing her dress that ripped into shreds as her belly rapidly expanded while she was eating a baguette. And she imagined how angry her mother would be because she'd destroyed the beautiful dress that they'd spent a whole afternoon selecting together. How sad the person who'd made the dress would be, knowing that all her work had been for nothing. How all the other kids would laugh at her because she was so fat and stupid.

Gasping in horror, she pushed the sandwich away from her, and this time, she couldn't stop her tears from flowing. A derisive "Aww, and here come the crocodile tears" was the last thing she heard as she spun around and ran back into her room.

 

* * *

 

_A hum behind her prompts her to turn her head and there's Nicky who's leaning against the door frame and Lorna can't help but silently admire her girlfriend's ability to look so adorable and yet so hot at the same time, without even putting a lot of effort into her appearance. The blonde smiles at her as though it was her who has hung the moon in the sky. To this day, Lorna has never fully understood what the hell Nicky sees in her that makes her look at her like that all the time, but nevertheless, it gratefully makes her feel much more at ease and her feeling of inadequateness makes way for deep affection towards her girlfriend._

 

* * *

 

Lorna's obsession with love dated back to her earliest childhood days. Even as a little girl, when she was barely able to understand what it was all about, she was keenly fascinated by the fairy tales that her parents read to her during bedtime.

"And then the marriage of the king's son with Briar Rose was celebrated with all splendor, and they lived contented to the end of their days," Joe concluded the tale of Sleeping Beauty that he'd been reading, and gently closed the book in his lap.

Lying in her bed, Lorna smiled brightly up at him, satisfied with the ending.

"Daddy?" she asked. "Will a prince come to me, too?"

"Of course, _dolcezza,_ " Joe said, smoothing out the bed sheet over his daughter's shoulders before he leant over to give her a kiss on the forehead. "After all, you're my little princess, aren't you? You're gonna meet your prince and you're gonna get married and you're gonna give us a _whole_ bunch of sweet little grandkids."

The thought made the little girl giggle with excitement. Of course, being only five years old, she was way too young to fully grasp the concept of being married with children, but she very much liked the idea that a dashing prince would go on an adventurous journey and take on various dangers to come and rescue her and lead her to a wonderland where everyone admired her and where she could do and have everything that she ever wanted.

Over time, Lorna's fantasies started to change. For as long as she could remember, she'd had imaginary friends. In her mind, she'd have adventures and conversations with them, and sometimes, she'd channel them into her dolls and plushies. But now, she started to dream of being a princess. Or, in fact, she became convinced that she _was_ a princess. That was what her father always called her, and it had to come from somewhere, right? He must know. She was a princess who, for some (potentially tragic) reason, was growing up in the home of common people, and one day, her prince would come and take her back to her kingdom, where she belonged. And they'd live happily ever after.

"Look who it is," Franny said one day when Lorna came into the kitchen where her siblings were washing the dishes from lunch.

"Hey, Lornie, come help us," Mikey said, grabbing a dish towel and pretending to throw it at his little sister.

But Lorna crossed her arms in indignation. "No!" she pouted. "I'm not doing that!"

"Think you're too good for it, yeah?" Franny asked. "Darling little princess," the older girl added under her breath.

She said it as though it was an insult and Lorna didn't understand why. In her view, she was saying how it was.

A few days later, Lorna woke up at night and, try as she might, she couldn't go back to sleep. So, she decided to seek out her parents in the living room. They often stayed up late, watching movies, and maybe they'd allow her to stay with them a little bit, give her a cuddle and let her watch TV until she was tired again.

She'd reached the last few steps of the stairs when she heard her parents talk in hushed tones. Carefully, she tiptoed all the way down, hid behind the wooden panel that separated the stairs from the living area, and tried to listen. She found that the conversations that they tried to hide from their children were always the most interesting ones.

"And I'm telling you, it's gotta stop," her mother said. "She truly believes she's a princess."

"Ah, but it don't hurt anyone, does it, Stansie, love?" came her father's voice. "It's _cute_. It's just a _phase_. And before you know it, she's grown out of it and you wish it lasted longer. Those kids grow up so fast, let 'em have a little fun."

"This is _not_ about fun. We're spoiling her way too much and it's time for her to be brought down to earth before she thinks she's better than us. See, Francine complains that we favor her, and she might be right. She and Michael had to do chores when they were her age."

"I just wish she'd stay that young," her father said wistfully. "We'll never have that again, y'know. Unless..."

"Unless _what_?"

"Unless we have another one. What d'you think, _farfalla mia_ , should we try?"

Lorna didn't bother to listen to her mother's response. She was feeling too sick to keep eavesdropping, and it had less to do with her father's suggestion and more with her mother's opinion that she needed to be treated worse. She couldn't believe that her own mother, one of the only two people in the whole world that made her feel like she was worth something, would betray her like that. Did she hate her so much that she thought she didn't deserve to be well and happy? At least her father saw her for who she was and she was grateful for it. She really was still a little girl, _and_ a princess, and, as such, she needed to be sheltered and protected and she was too young and too precious for having to put up with something as harsh as menial work. She felt a pang of sympathy for poor Cinderella who was mistreated and forced into labor by her evil stepsisters. But things ended well for Cinderella, didn't they?

She couldn't wait for the day when her prince finally found her.

 

* * *

 

_"Nicky!" Lorna beams, extending her arms and doing a little pirouette as she turns fully around to the blonde. "How do I look?"_

_She feels only a hint of insecurity as her girlfriend's eyes scan her from head to toe and back again, too strong is her amusement by the playful grin on Nicky's lips that clearly gives away what she's thinking. Nicky crosses the distance between them and, wrapping her arms around her waist, pulls her in for a hug. She then leans in to press a lingering kiss beneath her ear before she whispers,_

_"You're fucking hot, kid."_

 

* * *

 

In multiple ways, Stansie was very different from Joe. For instance, while Joe was rather humorous and often turned a blind eye to the shenanigans of his children, Stansie tended to be strict and an enforcer of rules. Lorna loved her mother dearly, but she couldn't deny that she also feared her a bit.

One role of Stansie's was making sure that her family was always well dressed. She saw it as her duty, because she was sure that if she didn't, Joe would walk around in the same outfit for four days in a row without batting an eye. Moreover, she wanted to set a good example for her kids, and she loved selecting cute outfits for them.

Therefore, it was rather common to see Stansie in various stores and boutiques with at least one of her kids in tow. This time, she had taken ten-year-old Lorna to the mall.

It was less that the girl needed something and more that Stansie had decided that Lorna was spending way too much time alone in her room and spending some time outside, among people, would help her to not fully turn into a shy little wall flower. Clothes shopping was something they'd always bonded over, and since her father worked a lot and her mother had to divide her attention among three kids, Lorna appreciated the opportunity of having one of her parents to herself for a change.

The girl stepped out of the fitting room, showing off the white blouse that she was trying on to her mother and the store clerk who was helping them out, a corpulent middle-aged woman whose name, according to the tag on her chest, was Susan.

Stansie had her turn around while she was eying her critically, tugging the fabric into place here and there. "No, this is way too large," the woman concluded.

"I'll check if we have it in a smaller size," Susan said and walked away. Moments later, she returned with another blouse. This one was blue.

"I'm sorry, we don't have it in white," she explained. "but I'm sure this will also look great on you."

Lorna reached for the blouse, but Stansie intervened.

"No, you can bring that right back," she said. "It's gotta be white."

Susan did as told and Stansie gestured for Lorna to go back into the fitting room.

"I wanted to try the blue one," Lorna said while she was dressing back into her old shirt.

"Oh, trust me, Lorna, it wouldn't have looked nearly as good," Stansie's voice came through the curtain. "White really is your color, dolly."

When Lorna left the fitting room, Stansie put an arm around her shoulders and guided her back into the sales area.

"Between me and you," Stansie said. "she isn't quite qualified to give you advice on how to dress, looking like that. I mean, did you see how fat she is? And her clothes do nothing to conceal it. One should think that if she's _got_ to walk around like that, she'd at least dress for her type."

Lorna felt her face grow warm. "Mommy, I think she heard that."

"Don't be ridiculous, hon. She can't."

Lorna threw a fleeting look over her shoulder. Susan was dealing with another costumer, but she was still in what Lorna assumed to be hearing distance. But what did _she_ know? Stansie was the adult, and thus, her judgment must be more reliable. Still, her mother's lack of consideration made her angry.

"I found her nice," she said defiantly.

"Of course you did," said Stansie. "She was bringing you clothes after all. And now enough with the attitude," she added when Lorna opened her mouth for a retort that she hadn't quite formulated yet. "Look, she can be as nice as she wants, but the fact is that your appearance is what gives people the first impression of you, and if it's repulsive, they won't be interested in spending enough time with you to find out how nice you are. This may sound cruel, but this is how it works in this world. And, really, there's no excuse for letting yourself go like that. _None_. If people say otherwise, they're just lying to themselves to justify that they're sloppy and lazy."

The accident had changed the Morellos' financial situation drastically. While Joe's salary had enabled them to live a reasonably comfortable life before, they were now barely scraping by, to the point of often having their electricity cut off at the end of the month. It didn't leave much leeway for nice things for any of them, and this included Lorna who had long since grown out of her good clothes.

Her mother's words often rang in her ears when she compared her cheap outfits (which mostly consisted of worn-out hand-me-downs of Franny's) to the fancy dresses in magazines and the branded clothes that her classmates wore. One day, she was sick of it and she went into one of the stores that she knew was popular with the girls at her school.

She soon realized that the five bucks in her pocket wouldn't get her far. Feeling crestfallen, she was about to leave, when a gleaming bracelet on a nearby accessory stand caught her eye. She picked it up and checked the price tag. Of course, it was too expensive.

Unable to bear the humiliation of having to let it go, she weighed the piece of jewelry in her hands. It was a cute little thing, silver and with embedded turquoise rhinestones. She imagined how classy she'd look wearing it, how much the other girls at school would admire it, how it would be the key to new, unforeseen friendships and an entirely new life, and she knew that she just _had_ to have it. Making a bold decision, she hesitantly looked around. No-one was looking her way. She checked above herself and couldn't make out any cameras.

She swallowed nervously, and then, her shaking hand let the bracelet glide into her pocket. Nothing happened, and so she arranged her features into a hopefully neutral expression and hastily made her way out of the store, fueled by adrenaline and the sound of her wildly beating heart.

 

* * *

 

_"Speaking of which, we still have about fifteen minutes before we've gotta go," Nicky says, looking up at Lorna and waggling her brows._

_Lorna lets out a laugh and lightly swats at Nicky's shoulder. "You wanna_ do it _now? Nichols, you're in-sate-able."_

_Nicky rises to full height, eyes darkening as she intently gazes down at her girlfriend. "Yeah, that's right. I can't get enough of you 'cause you're so delicious."_

_"Then come and have a taste of me," Lorna says, wrapping her arms around Nicky's neck and raising herself on tiptoes so that Nicky can pick her up._

 

* * *

 

After the accident, nothing was like it used to be.

Her father, once her hero and pillar of strength, was as grumpy and distant as ever. Her mother's health was progressively deteriorating. Mikey, who had suffered from whiplash, kept complaining about all sorts of aches and pain and missing baseball, and he spent his time smoking weed and claiming that the others just didn't _'get'_ him. And as for Franny, the oldest sibling had dropped out of high school two years ago so that she was able to work more in order to support the family. However, she insisted that Lorna and Mikey completed their education, although Lorna didn't see the point. After all, she _knew_ that she was going to be a wife and a mother, and school didn't teach you how to do that.

(Plus, it was fucking hypocritical. Franny herself was dating some guy in his twenties who kept buying her stuff, which made her the living proof that you didn't need a diploma to live a good life.)

On the other hand, school had its perks, one of them being that the boys there had somehow become more interesting to Lorna. The girl wasn't fooling herself, though. The One had to be a proper man who could take care of her, and not some fourteen-year-old school boy. And yet, her newfound interest opened up the possibility of seeking closeness in them.

Of course, whatever would happen would be purely physical, absolutely meaningless in the grand scheme of things. She'd save her heart for The One, when she'd meet him, when she was older. The thing was, though, that Lorna felt lost. In between her parents' problems, Franny's never-ending bustle and Mikey's constant complaining, it was as though Lorna had almost been forgotten. In fact, it seemed like the only things that got her the attention of her family were her daydreaming and her tales about the things she imagined. And even that was only attention of a mocking and rebuking kind.

"Seriously, Lorn," Franny would say. "that shit used to be cute when you were a kid, but don't you think you're getting too old for that? Like, really, you gotta grow up and start taking on some responsibility, just, like, y'know, _the rest_ _of us_."

Unsurprisingly, it only made her withdraw further into her mind where the images of her future became more and more concrete and intricate, slowly filling entire notebooks with sketches and descriptions. Lorna didn't believe in princes anymore, at least not of the fairy tale variety (after all, Prince William had found his way onto the collage of magazine snippets that was hanging on her wall), but in the world she'd built for herself, she was free of the harsh reality and she was seen and appreciated, unconditionally loved by her husband who was handsome, strong, charming and successful. They had two sweet and intelligent children together (a boy and a girl, of course) and a bunch of pets, and they all lived in a huge house with tasteful furniture and a pool, and they had a nice car and nice clothes and always spent their vacations at the beach. And she never had to worry and was always protected.

She liked to lose herself in this perfect world, and as time went on, she found it harder and harder to snap out of it if she had to. She felt much more comfortable in her head, and yet, in a very frightening way, she found that her fantasy world still wasn't enough to curb the increasing amounts of anxiety that dealing with the real world gave her. She was craving something more substantial, the sort of warmth and assurance that only a real person could give.

Her first time with Joey Giordano, a boy in the year above her, was nice, even though it involved quite some fumbling and certainly wasn't the life-changing experience that she'd expected it to be. On the Monday morning after the party, she happened to walk just a few meters behind him and his best friend, Steven, on their way to school. She was about to catch up and greet them, when she realized that they were talking about her.

"I didn't see you anymore," Steven said. "So, you and that Lorna girl... you did it?"

Lorna blushed, anxious about what potentially humiliating things Joey had to say about her. To her relief, his only response was a brief "Yep" and she smiled at the way he seemed to proudly straighten up his back.

"And? What was it like?" Steven asked slyly, and even though Lorna only saw him from behind, she could perfectly visualize the dirty grin on his stupid face.

Joey laughed. "Why d'you care, man? Jealous?"

"Nah. Just thought she'd be weird."

"Huh? Why?"

Steven shrugged. "My sister's in classes with her. Says she's a psycho. Like, she just sits there and stares into space, alright, and then, she suddenly throws a tantrum 'cause somebody talked shit about Leonardo DiCaprio or something, pulling hair and all. Thought someone like that would be… well... into some freaky shit. Silent waters, y'know."

Joey let out a low whistle. "Hot damn."

"Yeah, right?" Steven cackled. "Hate to break it to you, my friend, but I guess you stuck it in crazy."

Joey hit Steven not-so-gently on the arm, but Steven kept laughing. It was only when she heard the sound fade away that Lorna realized that she was standing rooted to the spot.

She felt shaken. She thought that she'd made Joey happy by sleeping with him and, after all, he'd defended her honor by punching his dickhead friend. All the more it felt like a betrayal that he was still sticking with him instead of writing him off and taking her side. Wasn't he owing that to her?

He clearly wasn't a good man for fucking her and then dropping her _just like that_.

But perhaps it was her. Perhaps Steven had just spoken out what everyone was thinking anyway - that she was weird, that she was a psycho, that she was _crazy_. But she couldn't tell why they all targeted her like that. Perhaps, she thought, gritting her teeth, it was just because she wasn't as conforming and resigned as all those other bores who didn't have a single spark of fantasy and hope in their sad little minds. She was special, she dared to dream big, and she was destined for something great, something beautiful. And those people were just trying to drag her down because they were jealous. That had to be it.

Putting on a wide smile, she continued to go on her way, but she still felt the sting. She was only one against the world, and those nasty people had given her a reputation that was starting to precede her. And it made her feel so unclean, so defective.

And with a hot flash of fury, she remembered that Steven's fucking sister had done this. It had, ultimately, been her stupid gossip that had Joey side with _them_ and made her feel this way. Once she saw her, Lorna decided, she'd make damn sure that that evil bitch knew how she felt about that. This thought made her smile broaden with anticipation and she added a little skip to her step.

 

* * *

 

_Within a matter of seconds, Lorna's laid on the bed and Nicky's stuck her head underneath her skirt. While Nicky's eagerly lapping at her entrance, Lorna's eyes are screwed shut and she clutches the sheets as she's riding the waves of arousal that Nicky's ministrations are setting off. Mind dazed, the brunette looks down at herself, smiling at the way Nicky's head is hidden by the fabric of her skirt. She reaches down and peels it back. She's always found watching her girlfriend pleasure her to be a major turn-on._

_When Nicky's face comes into view, she looks up at Lorna. Her eyes are shining and hold a look full of adoration._

_"Oh my God, Nicky, I love you so much!" Lorna blurts out the first thing that comes to her mind._

_She feels Nicky smile against her cunt and for a moment, the blonde squeezes her thighs closer to herself._

_"I love you, too, babe," she says and tenderly kisses Lorna's center before she continues to lick._

_Lorna keeps watching her, heart warmed by the comforting knowledge that, right here, she has somebody who would do anything for her, who accepts her for who she is, and who fully reciprocates her feelings._

 

* * *

 

Over the years, Lorna immersed herself more and more into fictional love stories, romantic songs and the lives of celebrities that she found attractive. And while she was remaining faithful to her vow to ultimately save herself for The One, she wasn't opposed to some casual sex every once in a while. Of course, it was just a means of feeling more validated and less lonely, and having a little bit of fun, and she was cautious to only do it with guys she considered to not be proper marriage material from the get-go, so that she didn't run the risk of getting attached.

It all changed when she met Christopher.

After the charming, handsome man that was her newest acquaintance had helped her carry her parcels home and the two of them had agreed to meet again for a coffee the following day, Lorna was on cloud nine. She still couldn't believe her luck. There was no doubt that he was The One, that she'd finally met her prince. The way they'd found each other had been so magical already, like something from a romantic movie, and the rest of their life together was only bound to be perfect. She couldn't stop thinking of him, replaying their conversations in her mind and thinking through scenarios. He'd only have eyes for her, just like today, and cherish and protect her every day. When they got married, she'd of course take on his family name (she'd seen it on one of the letters that he'd picked up - _Lorna MacLaren_ sounded _so good_ ). She'd be such a good wife and make sure that she'd fit well into his family. And he'd surely be an amazing father. She wondered what their kids would look like.

It would be such an exciting journey, the life she'd been imagining all those years, and it was just about to begin.

So, on the day of their date, Lorna couldn't have been happier. It was a beautiful day and it was warm enough to sit outside (showing off the newest dress that she'd scammed) and enjoy the mild spring sun that was shining from the cloudless sky. What was more was that Christopher proved to be the perfect gentleman, not that Lorna had expected any less. He had greeted her with a kiss on her hand, had called her beautiful, had pulled her chair out for her, had been polite to the wait staff and kept smiling at her in that breathtakingly handsome way. She was so proud of her man and reveled in the knowledge that her instinct that had allowed her to fall head over heels for him at first sight had been absolutely correct.

"So, how d'you imagine our wedding?" Lorna asked, enraptured, her voice trembling with excitement as she took in the sight of Christopher - her destiny, _right there_ \- who was sipping his latte macchiato.

Christopher quirked a brow as he set down his glass. "Our _wedding_?" he chuckled. "Wow, you're planning _way_ ahead, aren't you?"

"Well, of course I am," Lorna smiled. "See, I think we should get married in October when the leaves have all nice colors. I'd love to have this traditional but really big ceremony, with both our families and a big celebration with a dance where all eyes are on us and everyone goes on about what a beautiful couple we are. And then, we have our honeymoon in Paris, and if we try for a baby there, his birthday will be in the summer, so he'll always have nice weather when he celebrates. I've been working on this list of names since I was twelve, but a boy would be Christopher Junior, of course."

Christopher wasn't smiling anymore. Instead, he just stared at Lorna, gobsmacked. "Hold on, you're really serious about that," he said slowly, and it was a statement rather than a question.

"Of course I'm serious!" Lorna frowned, feeling confused by Christopher's tone of surprise. "It's our _fate_ to be together," she explained the obvious as she reached out to hold his hand. "Don't you feel it, too?"

But before she could clasp it, Christopher pulled his hand away and grabbed the armrests of his chair. The sound of chair legs scraping against asphalt resonated in Lorna's ears as Christopher pushed himself back.

"Okay, this is getting weird. I'm sorry, Lorna. It was nice meeting you, but I really think we should end this here."

Lorna's mind couldn't quite keep up with this sudden change of events. "What… what are you doing?" she asked, trying to make sense of what was happening.

She felt her thoughts swirl in her head at a sickening pace as she watched how, without another word, Christopher stood up, put some cash on the table and walked away.

This was wrong. All wrong. This wasn't happening. This _couldn't_ be happening. It wasn't supposed to go this way.

"No, Christopher!" Lorna yelled in desperation, jumping up from her chair. "You and I, we're meant to be together! You can't go! I'm not letting you!"

 

* * *

 

_Several minutes later finds Lorna lying on her back, deep in post-coital bliss, with Nicky snuggled into her side. The blonde's spreading tiny feathery kisses along her girlfriend's jaw line and Lorna lightly giggles at the tickling sensation. She reaches over to poke Nicky's shoulder with her index finger._

_"I think we should get going," she says despite herself._

_Nicky groans, tightening her hold on Lorna and hiding her face in the crook of her neck. "Do we have to?"_

_"Well,_ I'm _not gonna deal with Piper if we're late."_

_"Screw Piper. It won't kill her to wait five minutes."_

_"Yeah, just that with_ you _, it's not just gonna be_ five minutes _, right?"_

_Nicky raises her head and nuzzles Lorna's cheek. "Aw, man, you know me too well," she says with a chuckle._

_Lorna runs a hand through Nicky's hair, holding her there. "Yes, I do."_

_As Lorna says this, she becomes acutely aware of how true it is. She and Nicky know each other, they understand each other, and they're bound to each other by all those things they've gone through together. It's the sort of connection that she's yearned for all her life. Maybe when it comes to the outward and superficial, Nicky doesn't check the boxes for the One that she's grown up imagining, but she_ does _for all those little things, and more, and Lorna wouldn't want to have it any other way._

_Life is beautiful and perfect._

 

**Author's Note:**

> The ending of "Sleeping Beauty" that is read by Joe is taken from:  
> <http://www.fairytalescollection.com/TheGrimmBrothers/SleepingBeauty.aspx>
> 
> _Dolcezza = Sweetie_   
>  _Farfalla mia = My butterfly_


End file.
